


New things

by robokittens



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, QMJHL Days, Rimming, Very Nearly Anal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7206830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jack," Kent mumbles into Jack's neck. "I wanna try something."</p>
            </blockquote>





	New things

**Author's Note:**

> hi, omgcp! fandom. ~~didja miss m~~ i've missed you!
> 
> this is totally unbeta'd, and for that i apologize.

"Jack," Kent mumbles into Jack's neck. "I wanna try something."

Jack's arm tightens around Kent's waist, pulling him closer, although there's not much closer they can get. Kent has one of Jack's thick thighs tucked up between his legs and he's rocking shamelessly against it, his face pressed into the hollow of Jack's throat. There's a wet spot forming on his boxers, he can feel it.

"Jack," Kent says again.

Jack still doesn't say anything, just wraps a hand around the side of Kent's face and tilts it up, tilts his own face down until their lips can brush against each other. Kent squirms upward so that he can kiss Jack for real.

Their attention shifts from desperate frottage to lazy making out, and it's several long minutes of kissing later before Jack pulls back and says, "What?"

Kent blinks. "What what?"

"What did you want to try?"

Kent sits up. He's still straddling Jack's thigh, and his quick movement over the muscle there reminds his dick what they'd been up to.

Kent takes a deep breath. It was one thing to say it in the heat of the moment, but now that they're both breathing slow and even, now that they're not rock-hard and desperate …

"I wanna eat you out," he says.

Jack's eyes widen. They're so blue, and such a soft contrast to all the hard angles of his face — Kent's fucking gone, he's so fucked.

Jack doesn't say anything for a long, long minute, and Kent all but holds his breath.

"Kenny," he says, slowly.

Kent's not breathing, he's pretty sure he's not breathing. He forces himself to take a big steady breath.

"It looks hot in porn," Jack says finally. He's so fucking matter-of-fact. Kent kind of wants to slap him. His dick stirs, but he's pretty sure it's not at the thought of slapping Jack. That's — that's a conversation for another time, maybe.

He's pretty sure it's because Jack's gonna say yes. He hasn't said it yet, but — he's gonna.

"C'mon," Kent says, and he knows he's borderline begging. "It's gonna feel good. I can make you feel so good, I swear. Don'tcha trust me?"

Jack raises an eyebrow.

"Fuck you, bro, you trust me."

"To receive a pass, yeah," Jack says, and he grins, and pulls Kent back down for another kiss.

"C'mon," Kent says, breathes it into Jack's mouth. "Let me."

Jack makes a sound like he's thinking, presses an almost-chaste kiss to the corner of Kent's lips.

"Okay," he says, and Kent bursts out smiling.

" _Yeah_ ," he says. "Fuck you, I knew you'd say yes."

"Fuck _you_." Jack's eyes are so bright, his own smile so big. "Do you wanna — now?"

It's with heroic effort that Kent moves himself from the sweet pressure of Jack's thigh between his own; he rolls over and half-heartedly slaps Jack's side. "Hands and knees." He's aiming for commanding but from the way Jack is smirking at him, he doesn't quite make it.

Still. Jack gets on his hands and knees. _Fuck_.

"Fuck, yeah," Kent breathes. He shuffles his way across the bed until he's between Jack's spread legs. He snaps the waistband of Jack's briefs and Jack jolts. "Shoulda taken these off," Kent muses, easing them slowly over the curve of Jack's ass. He can't pull them down far, not with Jack's legs spread like this, but it's far enough. 

He smoothes his thumbs over the meat of Jack's ass.

"Fuck _yeah_ ," he says again, and leans in to softly kiss one of Jack's ass cheeks, then the other. He can _feel_ how tense Jack is, how tightly-wound with anticipation.

"Hey," Kent says quietly. "Zimms. This is gonna be good."

He squeezes Jack's ass — he can't help it; it's fucking squeezable, and he's glad that slapping your teammate's asses is just not a weird thing to do, because he gets to grope this shit in public and no one calls him out on it.

Jack says his name, an impatient little, "Kenny," and Kent laughs.

He digs his thumbs in and spreads Jack's ass, leans in and licks, tentatively, over his hole. He's never done this before, has honestly no idea what he's doing — he's watched some porn; he's watched a _lot_ of porn, but the camera can't really get up in there while this is happening. Jack's breathing quickens, and Kent licks at him again.

He'd expected it to smell bad, taste weird, but it doesn't — a little sweaty, but good sweat, after-game sweat, thick and musky and a little like B.O., but in a way that smells like winning. Jack smells like _winning_ , tastes like it. Kent gets his nose all up in the crease of Jack's ass, licks at him sharp and pointed until Jack's making little whimpering sounds.

Kent smiles, pulls back to lick Jack long and slow, digs his thumbs in a little deeper.

Jack makes a soft, eager sound, and folds down from his hands onto his forearms, buries his head in the pillow. His ass is pushed up in the air, still, even more ridiculous and on display than it was before. It's fucking incredible.

Jack's _wet_ , wet with Kent's spit, and when Kent looks he sees that Jack's rim is already a little red. He's fingered Jack before, that's not new; he knows Jack likes something up his ass. But — Kent's tongue, that's something different.

Kent slips the tip of one thumb into Jack's hole. He listens for the hitch in Jack's breath that tells him he's good, slides the thumb in to the first knuckle. He pulls his other thumb up to his mouth and sucks on it, gets it good and wet before sliding it in next to the first.

He's fingered Jack before, yeah, but never without _lube_.

"You good, Jacky?" he says, and from where he's sitting, he's pretty sure he can see Jack nod; it's hard to tell with his face in the pillow. Jack can get kind of non-verbal during sex, sometimes, but Kent wants to be sure. "You okay?" he asks again.

" _Please_ ," Jack gasps out. 

Kent smirks, even though Jack can't see it. "Toldja," he says, and licks over Jack's hole again, up and over where his thumbs are pressed together. Slowly, he pulls them apart; slowly, he pulls Jack's hole wider. Jack gasps.

Kent buries his face in Jack's ass again, gets his tongue finally _inside_ Jack. Jack's all whimpers above him, and Kent smiles, shoves his tongue in past the tips of his thumbs and further into Jack.

He fucks his tongue in and out, _fucks Jack_ with his tongue, breathes Jack in through his nose.

"Kenny," Jack says, "Kenny," and it takes Kent a minute to realize Jack is actually trying to get his attention. He pulls back, sits up, leaves his thumbs hooked into Jack.

"Kenny," Jack says again, and his voice hasn't lost its desperate tone. "Kenny, _Kent_ , please, you gotta — your fingers, please —"

Kent slides one of his thumbs in to the base, then both of them. Jack's breath hitches.

"You want more?" Kent says, teasing, and doesn't let Jack reply before he pulls his thumbs out. Jack _moans_ , long and low and clearly not happy. Kent smirks, digs his thumbs back into the meat of Jack's ass and pulls him apart again, presses the softest of kisses over his hole.

Jack's still so wet, christ, and there's almost no resistance at all when Kent presses two fingers inside him. 

" _Ah_!" Jack says, a sharp little sound, and his head lifts off the pillow; he looks back over his shoulder at Kent.

Kent smiles at him, smug.

"That good, Zimms? You good?"

This time, Kent can see it for sure when Jack nods, can hear the muffled " _Please_ " when Jack buries his face in the pillow again.

Kent fucks his fingers into Jack, pulls them out to the tips and shoves them roughly back; there's a bit of a drag when he pushes back in, and he doesn't want to _hurt_ Jack, could never want that, so he leans back in and licks around his fingers. Gets Jack all nice and wet again, spit-shiny. 

He can feel Jack all tense beneath him, can feel the shudders that wrack his body every few seconds as Kent scissors his fingers and licks deeper in between them. 

He sits back. Slowly, he slides his fingers out. Slowly, he slides three back in. 

Jack makes a muffled "Oh!" sound, and Kent laughs.

He moves his fingers in and out of Jack, long slow movements that keep Jack whimpering and twitching beneath him. This he knows, this way of taking Jack apart; this he's _good_ at.

"Hey, Zimms," he breathes, and licks a long line up next to his fingers.

"Kent!" Jack bursts out, and that's it, the dam has broken; he's not talking, not really, but he's loud: it's all _please_ s and Kent's name and gasping breaths and keening sounds. And it's got Kent hard, christ, so fucking hard. Just from hearing this, from knowing he's doing this to Jack. From hearing Jack say his name. If he touches his dick, he's pretty sure he'll be gone.

He focuses on the little pains in his hand instead, the way his wrist is threatening to cramp, the awkward knot of his pinky against his palm. It would be so easy to just …

"Hey, Zimms," he says again, "can I —"

Jack just makes this sort of choked-off noise, and Kent uncurls his pinky. He pushes back in slowly, the tip of one finger. Three fingers. Four. All four fingers seated deep inside Jack, who's abandoned talking altogether in favor of deep breaths and breathy moans.

"Hey," Kent says, "hey, are you okay?"

He doesn't move his hand but he reaches up with the other one and rubs circles over the small of Jack's back. "You okay?" he asks again.

"Mmgood," Jack slurs out eventually, and Kent is pretty sure he's crying. Almost sure. And christ, maybe Kent's just a sick fuck but he's half-tempted to take his hand out of Jack's ass and scoot up the bed until he can lick the tears from Jack's cheeks.

He doesn't, though, just curls his fingers slightly inward until Jack's whimpers get louder, until Jack whispers, pitiful, " _Please_ , Kenny. _More_."

Kent stills.

"More?"

"I — Kent, please, I want — can you —"

" _Fuck_ , Zimms," Kent says, and he laughs. If Jack's asking for what he thinks Jack is asking for … "I'm, uh, gonna need the lube for that one, Jack."

Jack doesn't say anything but he _pushes_ back on Kent's fingers, insistent, and Kent laughs again.

"God," he says, and slaps Jack's ass lightly with his free hand. "You're such a slut."

Jack's only reply is another high-pitched sound, and jesus, Kent is so glad his billet family is gone for the day. Not that he doesn't love hurried handies and stolen kisses, but this — seeing Jack like this, _having_ Jack like this — 

He curls his fingers in again, not quite a fist, and listens to Jack's breathing go ragged.

He finger-fucks Jack slowly, so slowly it's hurting _him_ , long steady strokes with that curl at the end that steals Jack's breath away.

Finally, on an out stroke, Jack gets it together long enough to speak. "You know where it is, you asshole," he grits out into the pillow, and Kent pauses.

Know where —

"The _lube_?" he asks. He laughs, a faint tinge of hysteria to it. Of course, Jack can keep their conversations linear, even when — even when he wants to — 

"Okay," Kent whispers, "okay," and slowly uncurls his fingers, slowly slides them all the way out.

Jack groans, and fucking collapses.

"Jack!" Kent sits bolt upright.

"Mmgood," Jack says, and gives Kent a weak thumbs up, his face still smushed into the pillow.

Kent blinks.

"Jack," he says slowly, wonderingly, "did you just —"

"Kenny," Jack says, and turns his head to the side, enough so that Kent can actually see him. Can see the stupid, dopey smile on his face, his blissed out post-orgasm smile. Because he just. He came, he just fucking jizzed himself just from Kent's fingers up his ass, without Kent even _touching_ his dick. Without Kent ever getting _close_.

" _Jesus_ , Zimms," Kent says. " _Fuck_. Jack, that's — that's so hot, Jack, baby." He knows he's babbling, but he can't stop himself. "Jack, you gotta let me — please, Jack, Jacky, babe, please, I gotta —" He fishes his dick out from his boxers and settles back in between Jack's legs.

"Jack," he says again, "Jack, I _gotta_." He taps the head of his dick against Jack's hole, all stretched and red and swollen, and Jack groans again. "I'm not — Jack, I couldn't, I couldn't even — I wouldn't even get in you, I'd come like a fucking chump before I even got in, I just gotta —" 

He spits in his palm, and that plus the pre-come is enough to ease the slide of his fingers up and down his dick, the few quick, sure strokes that it takes before he's coming all over Jack's ass.

Jack exhales loudly; Kent can barely hear it over the pounding of his heart. "Jack," he says, " _Zimms_ ," and trails his fingers through the mess on Jack's ass. He slicks his pointer finger up, slicks his middle finger, and pushes them both back into Jack.

Jack jolts, and the movement pushes Kent's fingers in further. Jack yelps.

"Yeah, Zimms," Kent murmurs, and he swipes his fingers out and in again, watches in fascination as he pushes his own come into Jack's ass, watches as it seeps back out.

"The fuck are you — _Kent_ ," Jack says, and the words are almost a protest but the tone, not so much.

And Jack laughs, fucking laughs when Kent deadpans, "Knocking you up." He leans back in and licks around his fingers, licks up his own jizz and finds he doesn't even mind the taste when it makes Jack moan like that again.

"Shut — shut the fuck up," Jack manages.

Kent sits back, pulls his fingers out, snorts. "You fucking love me," he says.

Jack stills. 

"Yeah," Jack says. "I _guess_."

"I _guess_ ," Kent mimics, mocking. Jack fucking loves him. He's gonna say it one day, Kent knows, and Kent — he's gonna say it back.

He presses a quick kiss to Jack's tailbone and sits up again, wiping his fingers off on the sheet by Jack's hip, just in Jack's line of sight. 

"Gross," Jack says.

Kent smirks. "You're gross. You're the one lying in the wet spot." He flops himself down onto the other side of the bed before Jack can so much as think about rolling over.

"Asshole," Jack grumbles.

Kent just laughs.

And after a moment, Jack laughs too.

**Author's Note:**

> omg!!! please check out [this fantastic mix](http://lovebitty.tumblr.com/post/146591927694/i-guess-kent-mimics-mocking-jack-fucking) inspired by this fic! ♥♥♥


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